Dean shoves him into the wall and pins him there, grinding their hips together in a crude way that would make angels turn away in disgust. Castiel rolls with it, clamors at Dean's clothing, trying to rip it off. He wants to be bare, exposed, open. Instead Dean holds him down, sucking dark marks into his neck.

They met on a hunt just like this one, vampires seeding themselves into a small town. Every time they kill together, survive together, they grow closer. His brethren still haven't come looking for him and maybe it should concern him that they've let one of their captains just run off to go native, but right now he doesn't care.

Teeth gouge into his skin and his nails dig into Dean's shoulders like claws. When he admitted what he was, revealed himself to Dean he'd expected many things. Chiefly anger, because he'd been lying to Dean for weeks. He expected rejection, maybe even for Dean to try and kill him. What he hadn't anticipated were the questions, the curiosity, the want to learn.

He told Dean he could heal, could smite, create and destroy and Dean took a moment to process it. Then he asked if Castiel could find one demon in particular. Sam had been curious of him, too. More so than Dean. He shook Castiel's hand and was humbled. The demon blood in his system recoiled in fear, intelligent and tangible in a way Hellborn things are. Sam himself, though, he's very far from the condemnation and corruption one would expect.

Dean breathes into his ear and his thoughts scatter and flee like rodents as a light flicks on. That's just what Dean is. He is a light, a beacon, a way home where Castiel has been lost for centuries, unsure of his purpose.

They're still grinding, haven't even made it out of their shirts yet. Dean seems to realize this and backs off, tearing at his own clothing and Castiel takes the opportunity to startle him. He snaps his fingers and they're both nude. Green eyes fly up to him and a lewd smile causes crinkles to form at the sides.

He's pressed back into the wall, Dean's skin hot against him in a way he would never have been aware of if it weren't for his extended vacation. They kiss, Dean's hands groping his ass and thighs, his thoughts filled with images of taking Castiel right against the wall. He jumps up and wraps himself around Dean, feels a slight tickle when Dean's fingers run down the backs of his legs.

It feels almost like being drunk, having Dean's soul washing over him with such single-minded attention. Of course he only knows what that feels like because Dean insisted. Dean has been the start of many first.

"Love... your mojo." Their lips brush together as Dean speaks and he can feel the hesitation in the words, how they were almost something very different to how they turned out.

Castiel smiles and reaches out with his grace to massage Dean's cock. He watches the way the hunter's eyes go wide, pupils expanding further. With little more than his will he's readied himself, always so impatient when he could have Dean in an instant. Some nights they slow down, he allows Dean to take his time and tease him. This isn't about that. It's about celebrating and making a celebration wait seems like bad manners.

He guides Dean to him and watches the way the already beautiful soul twists and cries out for him, prayers screaming out of Dean's heart even though the man himself is silent. It's easy to sink down and feel everything, the stretch and shift. He wonders if Dean would be able to see his true face with enough slow exposure to his grace. Maybe he could begin to show himself in dreams to reduce the chances of inducing madness or burning Dean's eyes out of their sockets. There are many things he would do and give for this human.

Dean's hair is soft, not gelled like usual. Castiel cups the back of his head and draws him into a kiss. The power contained in Dean's body is staggering. The years of conditioning and work have made him perfect for this sort of thing. Even if Castiel weren't helping keep them like this, he imagines Dean could hold his weight entirely, pin him vertically and fuck him raw.

Their foreheads rest on one another, sweat making their skin slip. Dean takes another kiss, mostly teeth pulling against lips, but Castiel revels in it. Keeping his grace reigned in dulls sensation most days, so when he allows himself to let go, to expand and fill his vessel entirely sensation can drown him in a way no angel should know. Feeling Dean's cock inside him, the push and pull of his thrusts, the pinching pain where Dean's fingers pull at the hair on his thighs, it courses through him and lights him up in the same way a glow stick cracks and illuminates.

The warmth starts to build low in his stomach, heavy and sweet in a way the divine fire of his being isn't. It builds, writhing and striking out at him wickedly. His legs tremble in Dean's grip and he whimpers meekly, mouth incapable of closing. The constant panting has his throat drying uncomfortably. His eyes can't stay open and his head is falling back. Losing control like this terrified him at first, made him wonder if something was wrong. Now he knows differently, he waits for that moment to happen, when even simple things are beyond him.

Dean's muscles shake, sweat makes his hands slip and falter. He buries his face in Castiel's neck and whispers little truths there where no one else can hear them.

They move together, pushed so close it will be a miracle worthy of scripture if they can separate again. Dean's getting close, pushing up hard in a way that causes Castiel to ride up the wall. His cock is caught between their bodies, every thrust pressing against it. Castiel gives up all pretense and pride, allows his head to fall back his eyes to close as pleasure subdues him.

He can feel the way the lust courses through his veins, feel Dean's thoughts shifting erratically as any ability to focus becomes lost to him. Perhaps Dean doesn't mean to pray like this, to beg and plead, but he does and Castiel feels every syllable and intention. It's just his name, over and over, a chant more potent than any exorcism.

"Cas." Every utterance draws him nearer, makes him throb and keen, back arching as much as it can.

He's helpless and never once did he think he could love it like this. "Dean."

Dean cusses in his ear, a dirty sound that makes the warmth burst. He cries out and spills between them, limbs tightening their hold to draw the source of their pleasure nearer. Sighs and moans fall easily from his lips, a sated smile working its way onto his face. Dean thrusts up again and growls into his ear with his release, pressing his mouth and nose close.

Dean presses a kiss to his skin, then another and another. Their hips are still rolling together, unable to stop until they have to because Dean slips out.

When his feet hit the ground he almost collapses, his knees weak under the full brunt of his weight. Dean laughs softly and catches him, drawing him back up to full height.

He looks at Dean and feels himself falling even more in love with his Father's creation. Any human willing to bear the weight of an angel should be blessed unto the highest Heavens.